To the Parent Who’s Still Haunted by Their Birth...

Hey you. Yeah, you, the one who gets a lump in her throat every time someone mentions their “beautiful birth story.” The one who avoids baby showers or switches the channel during labour scenes. The one who sometimes feels like maybe she should be over it by now.

I see you. Because I am you.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Or maybe you didn’t even have a “plan,” but still, what happened didn’t sit right. Maybe it was the way your voice got lost in the chaos. Maybe it was how quickly everything spiralled. Or how slowly no one responded. Or how you felt invisible in a room full of people who were supposed to care.

You made it out, but not all of you did. And you’ve been carrying that weight quietly ever since.

If this sounds like you, know this: you’re not too sensitive, too emotional, too stuck. You’re a human who went through something hard. Something that changed you. Something that didn’t leave you with the same nervous system you walked in with.

People might say, “But you have a healthy baby!” And yes, maybe you do. But who’s asking about you?

You can feel grateful and gutted. You can love your baby and still ache for how you were treated. You can go about your day, feedings and diapers and baby giggles, and still flinch when someone says “at least.”

Birth trauma doesn’t always look like emergency sirens and dramatic scenes. Sometimes it’s quiet. It’s in the way you avoid telling your story. Or how you hesitate before walking into that same hospital again. It’s the way your whole body tenses when someone says, “It all went so fast.”

You don’t need to justify it. You don’t need to make it make sense for anyone else.

Your body remembers.
Your heart remembers.
And you’re allowed to name that.

If no one else has said it to you yet: I’m sorry it went that way. I’m sorry you didn’t get the support you deserved. You should’ve been listened to. You should’ve been held—physically, emotionally, spiritually.

It’s okay if you’re not ready to talk about it yet.
It’s okay if you are ready but don’t know where to start.
It’s okay if all you needed was this—just one voice saying: I see you.

You’re not alone. Not even close.

• A.D.